


On This Side

by stoplightglow



Series: Paradox 'verse [2]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Palm Reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 05:10:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16968291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stoplightglow/pseuds/stoplightglow
Summary: “For the millionth time,” Frank says, his voice raised to be heard over the music, “I am not going to tell you where we’re going.”





	On This Side

**Author's Note:**

> a little coda for paradox 'verse that will hopefully make your heart warm.
> 
> thanks to [nat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/corruptedkid) for beta.

Frank reaches over and fiddles with the volume knob on the radio, cranking up Robert Smith’s voice. It’s not that the Cure are his favorite or anything — they’re his and Gerard’s compromise band, since Frank can only listen to so much Britpop and Gerard can only tolerate so much punk junk before they start to bitch at each other — it’s more that he’d rather listen to “Pictures of You” than Gerard’s bellyaching.

“Come on,” Gerard tries again. “Please?”

“For the millionth time,” Frank says, his voice raised to be heard over the music, “I am not going to tell you where we’re going.”

“You have to!” Gerard demands, with all the ferocity of a toddler.

“I really don’t,” says Frank. “And if you try to pull off the blindfold again, I swear to god, all of your Pulp records are going straight to the dumpster.”

“But  _ you _ bought those for me!” That’s true, which is why it’s sort of an empty threat, but Frank certainly isn’t going to tell Gerard that. Gerard crosses his arms and says, “Whatever. It doesn’t matter anyway, this thing is totally translucent. I can see right through it.”

A pause. “You’re lying.”

Gerard sighs deeply, and out of the corner of his eye, Frank catches him drop his hands into his lap as he aborts an attempt to sneak a peek. “Yeah, I am.”

“Look, we’ll be there in a minute, okay?” Frank takes one hand off of the wheel and relocates it on Gerard’s thigh, squeezing. Gerard huffs out a breath, but he places his hand over Frank’s and squeezes back, so Frank knows he can’t be too mad. He’d agreed to this in the first place, after all. The complaining only started once they’d left the apartment.

“Okay,” Gerard grumbles at last. “But Mikey knows I’m with you, so if you’re trying to kidnap me, it’s not going to work out.” A second later, Gerard seems to register what had just come out of his mouth, and he tenses under Frank’s palm. “I mean—”

Frank picks up Gerard’s hand without taking his eyes off the road, bringing it to his mouth and kissing the knuckles softly. He hates when the nightmares find them in the daytime. “Hey. We’re okay.”

“We are,” Gerard says quietly, almost to himself. The Cure fills the silence until Frank pulls into a parking space.

As soon as they’re stopped, Gerard’s fidgeting comes back in full force. He tugs at the edge of the old t-shirt-turned-blindfold. “We’re here, right? I can take this damn thing off now?”

Taking the keys out of the ignition, Frank contemplates that before ultimately deciding to stick with his original plan. “In a minute. We have to walk a little ways first.” In reality, he just wants to make sure he gets them far away enough from the car that Gerard won’t try to bolt when he finds out where Frank’s taken them. 

He slides out of the front seat and walks around to open Gerard’s door, pausing for a moment before he grabs Gerard’s hands to help him out. “You trust me?”

“Of course,” Gerard says automatically, and the feeling in his voice makes Frank’s chest fill with something warm and fluttery. 

“Okay.” Frank’s glad that Gerard can’t see his helpless smile. He takes Gerard’s hands in his. “Come on, then.”

He leads the pair of them across the parking lot and down a paved sidewalk, ignoring Gerard’s muttering under his breath about how he _hates_ _surprises_ and what he plans on doing to _Frank’s_ half of the record collection if this ends badly. When Frank finally stops walking, it’s abrupt enough that Gerard crashes into his back. Frank stumbles but manages to keep them both upright.

With fingers numb from the Jersey winter, Frank reaches over and tugs off Gerard’s blindfold. Gerard’s eyes grow twice as wide as he catches sight of the building in front of them, and he lets out a strangled sort of guffaw. “You’re  _ kidding, _ right?”

Frank looks at the psychic shop a few feet away and says with utmost sincerity, “Not kidding.”

“But—” Gerard doesn’t seem to know what to think. It’s definitely not his usual style, what with the flashing pink and blue lights and the sign taking up half of the front window that loudly proclaims, _All services_ _15% off! This week only!_ “Frankie. Frank. What the hell? Why are we _here?”_

“To have your palm read, obviously,” Frank says, then grabs Gerard by the wrist and drags him inside before he can protest.

“Frankie,” Gerard repeats in a high voice as the bell above the door announces their entry. “Come on, you’ve heard me talk about places like this. You know that this stuff — this stuff isn’t—”

“Real?” Frank finishes, and leans up to kiss the corner of Gerard’s mouth. “I don’t know, Gee. Sometimes people surprise you.”

Any remaining argument gets cut off as a young lady with dark hair long enough to reach her waist walks into the front room and clears her throat. “Hello, do you have an appointment?”

“Should be under Way,” Frank says, watching Gerard’s eyes get impossibly wider as he registers that this wasn’t some spontaneous idea, it was  _ premeditated. _ Frank tries to hold back his wicked grin so he doesn’t disconcert the nice lady, but it’s tough. 

After flipping through a binder on a nearby table, the lady snaps her fingers and confirms, “Yes, you’re right here. Palm reading, correct?”

“Yes,” Frank answers as Gerard remains in resolute silence. 

“Excellent.” She beckons with two fingers and leads them into the next room, gracious enough not to point out how Gerard is totally sulking. “My name is Emily. Which one of you will I be reading today?”

Frank opens his mouth only for Gerard to cut him off. “That would be me.” It’s still a little self-pitying, but at least he’s talking. Frank figures he’ll take what he can get.

Emily sits them both down at a round table covered in golden cloth and then disappears through another door that most likely leads to a back room. Gerard takes the opportunity to lean over and flick Frank’s arm. “Seriously. Why are we here?”

Frank shrugs and leans back in his chair, deciding to tell the truth. Gerard always sees through it when he doesn’t, anyway. “Honestly? I thought it would be funny.”

“Are you getting back at me for something?” Gerard stops and considers, face all scrunched up. “Is this because I drank all the expensive coffee Brian gave you last week?”

Frank’s brows furrow. “I’d actually forgotten about that, but now that you mention it, yes. This is totally revenge for drinking my Hawaiian coffee.”

“God, you’re such an ass.” Even as Gerard says it, the corners of his mouth twitch tellingly. Frank is just about to lean over and kiss him again when Emily reappears. 

“Sorry about the wait,” she says. Her long hair is tied back into a ponytail now and she’s wearing a necklace with a pendant on it that Frank thinks he might recognize from one of Gerard’s books. Frank’s so busy trying to place it that he’s taken aback when she turns and addresses him, and he yanks his eyes up guiltily, realizing how bad that probably looked. “Do you plan on staying? Guests normally don’t sit in for a reading unless they’re being read too.”

“I’d like him to stay,” Gerard interjects before Frank can say anything. Emily looks back and forth between them but doesn’t press it, and in a second, she’s smiling again. 

“Let’s begin, then.” She lays an arm out palm-up on the table and waits for Gerard to copy her. He does, a little reluctant but still cooperative. Frank grins into the back of his hand.

“Left hand?” Emily looks at Gerard curiously. Gerard, strangely enough, tilts his head at her and doesn’t seem to get what she means. “The left hand is inherited fortune, the destiny you’re assigned at birth. Traditionally, the right hand takes what the left hand foretells and shows what you’re making of it. It’s more popular in readings. I can look at either, though. Or both, for an extra fee.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t know.” That’s not something Gerard says a lot. He switches his hands on the table. “Right hand is better. I, uh — I’m more interested in how things have changed.” He sounds shockingly sincere, but maybe he’s just too nice to hit Emily with cynicism quite yet.

“Hmm,” Emily hums, tracing a line on Gerard’s palm. Frank tries to lean in discreetly and see what she’s looking at. All of her attention is focused on a line etched from Gerard’s thumb to his wrist. “Your life line is very straight, which usually indicates a cautious personality. You spend a lot of time contemplating decisions before you make them. But it’s also broken towards the end; that only happens when there’s been a sudden change in lifestyle. Does that sound about right?” 

From Frank’s perspective, that’s pretty fucking dead-on, but Gerard turns his head slightly to shoot Frank a look that says he’s not impressed yet.

Emily, thankfully, hasn’t looked up to catch sight of Gerard’s expression. She continues, “You do have a fate line, which is not the case with everyone. It is not deep, though. I doubt fate has much control over you anymore. Head line is next, let’s see.” The room is quiet while Emily turns Gerard's hand this way and that, her eyebrows knit together. “You actually have two. That’s rare. The second one is faint—” She traces a shallow line going horizontal across the middle of Gerard’s palm, right next to a much larger one. “—but that suggests high intelligence. Is your job very intellectually stimulating?”

“Um.” Gerard’s throat works as he swallows uncomfortably. He’d actually decided to try out college recently and has been picking up odd part-time gigs to pay for it, which makes Frank ridiculously proud, but they both know what he still considers to be his career. “You could say that, I guess.”

“That makes sense. It shows me big decisions coming soon, too, but I think you’ll know what to do.”

Gerard gives Frank a side-eye, but he’s biting his lip.

“Lastly is the heart line.” Emily changes her grip on Gerard’s hand yet again. “The one towards the top of your palm. Which shows me — oh.”

“What?” For someone who discredits palmistry regularly, Gerard sounds a little on edge.

“It’s…unusual. I’ve never seen one like it.” She peers closer at the line, nose almost touching Gerard’s skin. Gerard shifts in his chair. “The first half of it is so faint I can hardly see it, and then it’s intersected by an island — that’s what we call the tiny circle right there — which usually indicates a period of sadness or depression. But after that island, your heart line becomes incredibly deep. It’s the most prominent one on your hand.”

Frank knows he should stay quiet, but he can’t help himself. “What’s that mean?”

Emily turns to him, and he swears her eyes sparkle. “It means that right now he’s in true, unconditional love.”

And just like that, Frank’s stomach bottoms out. He’s floored for an embarrassingly long moment, mouth opening and closing like he’s learning how to breathe for the first time. It’s one thing to know in the back of his mind that Gerard loves him — because he does, Frank could never forget that, they say it every day when they leave the apartment and before they fall asleep. Still, it’s an entirely different thing to hear it stated so plainly by someone else, like it’s an indisputable fact. Frank thinks his ears may be ringing. It does sort of feel like a bomb just went off. 

When he finally works up the courage to look over, he sees that Gerard is flushed red from the tip of one ear to the next. Frank can’t even find it in himself to tease him for it.

“Um,” Gerard finally squeaks, way too late to seem unaffected. Emily somehow keeps her expression neutral. “How much do we owe you?”

Frank swipes his card and gets a receipt as fast as humanly possible, and they speed walk the whole way out of the psychic’s shop and back to the car. Frank half expects something to happen on the way there, like for Gerard to pin him up against the side of the car or recline the seats in the back and just crawl in like they’re teenagers, but he doesn’t do anything besides hold on tight to Frank’s hand. Frank tries to sneak glances at him on the drive back, but every time he looks over, Gerard’s gaze skitters elsewhere. Frank starts to wonder if he’s seriously fucked up.

“Did you expect to hear anything like that when you booked the appointment?” Gerard asks as they climb the stairs up to their apartment. His voice is flat, not giving anything away.

“No, why would I?” Frank had seriously just been aiming for some comedic material, something he and Gerard could poke fun at later. Not any of — whatever this has turned into.

“I don’t know.” Gerard jams the key into the lock and jiggles it more aggressively than necessary until it comes open. 

Frank hesitates before stepping into the apartment after him and closing the door. “Are you angry?”

Gerard looks at him quickly over his shoulder, expression tight. “No. Why would I be angry?”

Frank’s having trouble figuring that one out for himself. All the signs are there, though. “You seem off, is all.” They were supposed to be laughing about this.

Shaking his head, Gerard murmurs, “I’m not, I promise. It’s just…” He trails off.

“Just…?” Frank prompts when Gerard only dawdles uncertainly by the wall.

“Can I see your palm?” Gerard asks, and Frank is shocked enough by the non-sequitur that he holds his hand up automatically. Grabbing it, Gerard traces a finger over the sensitive skin. He doesn’t say anything for a torturously long minute.

Frank’s never been patient. “Seriously, what?” 

Gerard looks at him, and his eyes are, fuck,  _ sad. _ “We don’t match.”

Even though he swears he has more words in his vocabulary, Frank repeats, “What?”

“Our heart line don’t match,” Gerard says. “Mine is — you heard what Emily said. But yours is barely there at all.”

Frank forgets to breathe for a second. God, no. There’s no way Gerard believes that. “Gee. You know palm reading is bullshit, you say it all the time.”

“That was before Emily got every single thing right about me,” Gerard snaps. “I don’t — I’m not so sure anymore. And if my line is so deep but yours isn’t, then I don’t know, maybe—”

“Maybe  _ what, _ Gerard?”

“Maybe this won’t last! Maybe I’m not supposed to be here at all! And—”

“Gerard,” Frank interrupts, voice unwavering. “You’re not seriously questioning my devotion to you because of some  _ lines, _ are you?”

“It’s not because of the lines,” Gerard says, floundering a hand around. “It’s because you’re  _ you.  _ I can’t help it, alright?”

“The hell do you mean, because I’m  _ me?” _

“Look at you!” Gerard gestures incoherently at Frank’s entire body. “You’re — god, you could have anyone. But I don’t know a single thing about this shit. I practically didn’t even live in the real world until a few months ago.”

Frank blinks at him a few times. “Do you miss Lily Dale?”

“That’s not what I — no. I don’t. Not like I’d miss you.” 

“Then what’s going on?”

Gerard takes a shaky breath, dropping Frank’s gaze. “It’s — I don’t know. Sometimes I think you’re going to wake up and feel like you don’t owe me anymore for helping you find your parents, and then you’re going to realize how ill-equipped I actually am as a full-functioning adult, and then I’m going to have to go back to Lily Dale like none of this ever happened.”

Silence hangs. Frank waits, but the other shoe doesn’t drop. With horror, it sinks in that Gerard is completely serious.

Frank stumbles forward without much conscious thought, grabbing one of Gerard’s hands and pulling him in like a lifeline. “I get it,” Frank says, pouring as much feeling into the words as he can. “But you’re not here because I have some guilt complex. Every morning that I wake up and see you lying next to me, visible, on this side and so fucking beautiful, it feels like a miracle. Palmistry isn’t real. All the stuff in your head—” Frank makes a swirly sort of gesture that he hopes encompasses it, “—isn’t real.”

“It feels real,” Gerard murmurs.

Frank knows. He really, really knows. Still, “It’s not.” He leans in and kisses Gerard, warm and close-mouthed like a promise. “This? This is real.”

“I love you,” Gerard says, and Frank knows that too. He cradles Gerard’s face in his hands and kisses him again until he can feel it everywhere, throbbing in his kneecaps and slinging lovesick through his veins. 

When they come up for air, Frank says, “I love you more than I ever thought I fucking could. It doesn’t even make sense to me, sometimes.”

Gerard runs his fingers through the hair that curls at the back of Frank’s neck where it’s getting long, using it as leverage to tilt his head and kiss his jaw. “Maybe it doesn’t need to,” he says.


End file.
